


Come On, Baby, Calm Me Down

by jollux



Category: It's Always Sunny in Philadelphia
Genre: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Mental Health Issues, i know theyre in love and you know theyre in love but they dont fucking know that apparently, i've unzipped myself, this is too fucking soft, vaguely based on my own fucking depressive episodes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-02
Updated: 2019-08-02
Packaged: 2020-07-29 01:43:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,205
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20074051
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jollux/pseuds/jollux
Summary: Come on, baby, calm me downYou're the only one who knows howDennis wasn’t really sure when everything started to feel like nothing, when the hole inside him got too big to control and it started to swallow him whole.  It sucked up everything he found joy in or felt like anything at all. At some point between the beginning of time and right now everything turned to grayscale.





	Come On, Baby, Calm Me Down

**Author's Note:**

> this is uhhh more soft than it has the right to be but whatever, i wrote this before all the stuff about there being an airbnb romcom episode came out and it was based heavily on the bed pic which now exists in a different context so take from that what you will idk
> 
> title is from Skeletons by The Front Bottoms because i felt like it fit

Dennis wasn’t really sure when everything started to feel like nothing, when the hole inside him got too big to control and it started to swallow him whole. It sucked up everything he found joy in or felt like anything at all. At some point between the beginning of time and right now everything turned to grayscale.

The last time he’d left his apartment (probably three days ago by now, or maybe two? Wait, what day is it?), he’d been at the bar a few hours before the usual evening crowds came in. Mac was sitting across the bar, swiping through some app on his phone, mindlessly rambling on about something he did the other day with Charlie, something about how he ran into someone from high school in a cafe and life hadn’t been kind to him. Dennis wasn’t listening. Mac waved his hands in front of his face, repeating Dennis’s name.

“Huh?” He looks up from the lemon he was slicing.

“I asked you if could hand me a beer.” The bunch they’d brought up earlier, not wanting to make too many trips back and forth, was beginning to really take a hit.

“Get yourself a beer.” Dennis looks up from the lemon he was cutting but not stopping slicing it.

“You’re the one behind the bar!” Mac exclaims, gesturing furiously to where Dennis was standing.

“Whatever, you can do it yourself.” They stare at each other in the world’s lamest game of chicken ever, waiting to see who would crack and get Mac a beer first (not Dennis, he could do this all day). The only sound being the soft clatter of Dennis’s paring knife against the cutting board.

Mac groans eventually but leans over the bar to grab one, anyways.

“Dennis!” He yelled, grabbing onto one of Dennis’s wrists, tearing it away from his current task. “Holy shit, dude!”

Dennis looks at the hand Mac had pulled in between them, he could feel it distantly but he had to see it with his own eyes to realize it was real.

“You’re fucking bleeding!”

_ Yeah, I know _, he thought, but didn’t say anything, he just stood there watching blood ease out of the gash in his palm. His eyes started to lose focus, a blur of skin and crimson. Somewhere deep down he knew he should move, do something about it, but he just felt so tired… Mac sprung into action quickly, maybe he knew Dennis would stand there watching the blood flow down his arm until it was dripping on the floor. 

Appearing suddenly behind the bar, Mac holds up a clean white tea towel, reaching for Dennis’s injured hand. Wrapping his fingers timidly around Dennis’s wrist, he presses the tea towel to the gash. He was gentle, occasionally looking up to Dennis’s face to check his reaction, making sure it didn’t sting too badly, though applying solid pressure to try to stop the bleeding.

He should react, probably, it did hurt a lot. The searing pain turned more to a throb when Mac applied more pressure to the tea towel. He should react, that’s the normal thing to do. People react when they’re in pain.

“Son of a bitch, that hurt,” he mumbled, but it didn’t really sound sincere. He lifted away the tea towel to check the bleeding, it didn’t seem to slow at all. It was probably a bad call, the sight of blood always made him feel a little woozy.

“Dude, I think you might need to go to the hospital.” He sounded genuinely concerned for Dennis’s well-being. It made him feel sick. Where Mac had been touching him suddenly felt like it was on fire, he yanked his arm away with force.

“I don’t need to go to the hospital! IーIーit’s fine!” Dennis yelled. He turned away, making his way to the door. “I’m going home,” he ads softly, it was such a habit to tell Mac where he was going, not wanting him to assume he had died or been kidnapped. He wanted to storm off, but didn’t have the energy to really try and it probably came across more like sulking.

It was easier to leave than to try to feel the pain like normal. He could have faked it, hell, he was good at that, but the thought of feeling something that deeply sounded just too exhausting. So he left, and hadn’t left his apartment since.

The past few days felt like a blur, maybe just nothing worth remembering had happened. He’d barely gotten out of bed, a cycle of sleeping, waking, and eating _ very _ occasionally. For the first day or so Mac had left him alone, probably assuming he had just had a weird day and needed some time to himself. It was probably for the best, if Mac had even looked at him when he still had energy he would have exploded. The second day he had come to check in a few times, not always saying anything, just cracking open Dennis’s bedroom door and making sure he was still there and still breathing. It was irritating, honestly, he felt like he was being babysat, but it was more offensive when Mac had left to work for a few hours and no one was there to make sure he was okay.

On the third day, Mac just didn’t go to work at all. Around seven Mac opened the door just enough to stand half in half out, seeming unsure of himself. “Den?” His voice is soft, like he’s trying to be too gentle. “I think you gotta get up now.”

Dennis didn’t reply.

“It’s been days, man, and I get it, I do, but you need to, like, shower and eat something.” He maneuvers himself over to the side Dennis is facing, sitting down on the edge of the bed and looking like he’s waiting for his reply. When he doesn’t get one, Mac continues. “Look, dude, I know showering or whatever isn’t going to fix everything but it can’t hurt.”

“Fine,” Dennis mumbles into his duvet.

“What?”

“I said fine! I’ll do it if it’ll get you to leave me the fuck alone.” Mac looks relieved, putting out a hand to help Dennis up, which he promptly ignores. “Just give me a minute.”

“Sure thing, buddy,” Mac says. “I’ll go turn on the shower.

Dennis’s brain circles through responses, he wanted to say that he can do that himself but forced it down, knowing it would be easier not to argue and probably for the best, he couldn’t afford to waste what little energy he had.

Mac disappears into the bathroom, shortly before Dennis hears the steady sound of the shower. All Dennis does in that time is sit up.

“Alright, come on, time to get up,”

“Fuck off,” Dennis mumbles, not bothering to look up from his crossed legs under the comforter.

Mac tears back the blankets.

“What the _ fuck _, man!”

“I’m gonna wash the sheets, you gotta get out.”

“Fine,” Dennis groans. “But I’m getting into yours then.”

Mac nods and holds out his hand. Dennis looks at it, then to Mac, then back to his outreached hand. His fingers are long, with a thick wrist connect strong hands to tendinous forearms, cut off by sleeves pushed up to his elbows, Dennis guesses it must have been cold today if it encouraged Mac to wear something with sleeves. They look safe, like Mac’s arms could be the answer to save him from whatever had been corroding him inside out. Dennis grabs onto him, Mac smiles, giving his unsteady hand a reassuring squeeze and smiles at him.

Dennis doesn’t move after that, pulling Mac down towards him as he falls back to lay down again, maybe if he just disappears again so will everything else around.

“No, hey, come on!” Mac protests, falling forward and using his free arm to brace himself against the mattress. Dennis watches his bicep flex from supporting himself. He doesn’t want to think about it. He doesn’t want to think about how fucking jacked Mac had gotten when Dennis had been away. “I’m stripping the bed you have to get out.” He starts pulling up the corners of the white sheets.

“God, Jesus, fuck, _ fine _!” Dennis groans, his voice still hoarse from its limited use over the last few days. Dennis stands slowly, uneasy on his feet. Mac heards him towards the running shower, standing beside it once they reach the bathroom. “I can do this all myself,” Dennis says, reaching for the hem of his shirt. It smelled not too great, Dennis didn’t want to think about how long it had been since he’d changed last.

“I know.”

Dennis eyes him, trying to find his angle there. “You’re a dick.”

“Whatever,” Mac dismisses, ducking out of the ajar bathroom door. Mac doesn’t close it when he leaves, and neither does Dennis.

He slides out of his ratty old boxer shorts and melted into the warm embrace of the shower. It felt like rebirth, almost, he didn’t feel _ better _ really, he felt different. Like nothing existed outside of the few cubic feet of the shower, his own personal chrysalis. Grime shed off his body in waves, and he washed the days old grease out of his hair. He stood in the running water until it started going cold, forcing him to turn it off, reaching blindly beyond the curtain for a towel. The soft, plush, feeling against his face is nice, and wrapped it around his body before he got too cold. Mac held to his word, there weren’t any sheets on his bed anymore, _ great _. Mac does laundry for one goddamn time in his life without having to be told to once he starts wearing shirts that had been buried in the back of his closet since 1995 and it’s right fucking now. Whatever, fuck him, Dennis will just lie in his bed until he kicks him out (but something makes him think he wouldn’t do that).

He pulls a pair of grey sweatpants over his hips and begins toweling at his hair, walking into the living room with water droplets still rolling down his chest. Mac looks up from his phone, stilling for a second, Dennis would have missed it if he hadn’t already been looking at him. Macs eyes graze up his body, landing on his face, he clears his throat and looks away. “Iーuhーfeeling better?” He stammers out.

“Sure, whatever,” Dennis answers in a monotone. Making a beeline for the door parallel to his, not having the energy for whatever conversation Mac would feel like having if he gave him the time.

Mac’s room is a bit more cluttered, and darker. The bulb in the hospital bright overhead light had burned out a month or so ago, and neither of them bothered changing it. The only light was a desk lamp on the IKEA bedside table, and a floor lamp on the other side that Dennis doesn’t feel like turning on. The desk lamp is nice, though, the soft glow of the bulb is better than the hauntingly empty dark he had been in before. He throws the damp towel onto a desk chair in the corner and falls into Mac’s bed, it wasn’t particularly comfortable but the exhaustion of trying to _ be alive _ for the last hour or so just about killed him, so much that he isn’t even bothered by the dildo bike in the corner. Every ounce of energy he’d ever had had been sucked from his body by some black hole inside him, but he could sleep, he wasn’t tired in that way, he was just _ exhausted _.

A quiet “Hey” comes from somewhere near the doorway, Dennis is on his side facing away from the entrance and doesn’t bother looking towards the source of the noise. “Feeling better?” Mac inquires, making his way around the bed to the empty side.

Dennis stares at him, his weight makes the mattress sink when he goes to lay down, a mirror reflection of Dennis and staring at him intently. Dennis doesn’t answer, hoping maybe Mac would move on and go do something else, maybe hit up one of the gay bars he seems to be in every other night. But Mac doesn’t say anything, he just… waits.

“It’s not,” Dennis sighs, trying to figure out a way to make all the thoughts desperate to explode out of him make sense. “It’s just not like that.” His voice is quiet, unsure.

Mac doesn’t say anything, for once in his goddamn life he shuts the fuck up. Too bad it just happens to be when Dennis wants to sink inside himself and want to say nothing at all.

Dennis turns away, looking at him is hard, looking at the ceiling is easier. “I justーI don’t know, dude.”

“That’s,” Mac starts. “That’s okay.” His voice is slow and careful, like Dennis is a china doll he’s scared of breaking. He pauses, tentatively placing a hand on his bicep, drawing closer. It’s comforting, the feeling of another person is comforting.

Dennis wants so fucking badly to shut up, to never speak again and let the moment between them end instantly and continue forever, he was wrestled with the decision. No, more than wrestled, he got into a full bench clearing brawl. He wanted to run as far as he could, further than North Dakota (maybe he’d try the west coast this time, San Francisco sounds nice…), but he could feel Mac’s stare drilling into the side of his face. Surely he could find somewhere else to be, maybe force himself to go to some club and pick up some faceless chick (or dude, sometimes he liked to mix it up, to keep everything interesting) and beng them just so he had an excuse to spend the night far from here.

He wanted to run out of Mac’s room and never come back, but another part of him, buried deep down, wanted the exact opposite, he wanted to turn to Mac and have him hold him closer than he’d ever been held before. He felt sick, he was confused, and he was angry about it.

Dennis wished he could stop talking. “Sometimes it’s just like, I’m not a full person. I’m just the outside part.” He takes a deep breath and turns to face Mac, pulling himself from his grip. “Sometimes I’m so fucking _ empty _.” It feels like the moment in the shitty indie movie where tears would dramatically well in their eyes until someone breaks first and there’s an overly dramatic close up on their face, the soundtrack swells and they spend the night lying in each others arms. Not even touching on how ridiculous and dumb that is, there’s no way Dennis could cry even if he tried, any sliver of emotion he tried to get a hold on seemed to just slip right through his fingers and disappear into the void.

Mac doesn’t say anything, like he wants Dennis to continue. Placing a hand on Dennis’s shoulder, rubbing his thumb gently. Dennis leans into the touch, he wants _ so bad _ for Mac to just lie there and hold him. It was so fucking lame, and he hated himself for it, but he didn’t think he had ever needed another person like he did in this second.

“So, no, asshole, a shower and some clean sheets aren’t going to fix all my fucking problems.” It was rude, but Mac doesn’t even flinch. He holds onto him tighter and Dennis relishes in the feeling, not like he’d ever tell a single fucking soul that. “But,” he sighs, despite his better judgement. “Thanks, anyways, man.” The sincerity of it felt sickeningly sweet, like he was going to throw up.

“You know what always cheers me up, bro?” Mac reaches up towards the bible on the headboard, thinking he can cure whatever ails Dennis with passages from The Good Book.

“Stop it, stop right there. If you start quoting the bible at me I’m going to kill, I will literally fucking kill you.” He wanted to say it with some kind of venom but it all falls flat.

“Alright, no problem, whatever you want,” he says, leaving the bible where it lay. Dennis vaguely remembers Charlie once telling him how _ sticky _ Mac’s bible was, and he didn’t even want to think about what that might mean.

“I just,” He pauses, deciding if this is really where he wanted to go with this. “I needーor wantーyou to,” he says, pausing, frustrated.

“Just say it, man,” Mac says as he leaned impossibly closer, sounding like he was trying to be a fucking cliché, like he knew where Dennis was going and just needed an invitation. 

“Justー,” he cuts himself off, placing a firm hand on Mac’s jaw, pulling him in for a nose breakingly hard kiss. Their lips meet somewhere in the middle like a high speed car crash no one could survive. Mac’s caught by surprise, which Dennis didn’t expect, with how Mac had acted for the last twenty-five fucking years he figured he’d just been expecting Dennis to throw himself at him every second of the day. No matter what Dennis had said, he seemed to never have completely lost hope that this would happen again, even though it had been like eight years since they got too drunk and spent an hour making out and feeling each other up then vehemently pretending nothing happened the next day. Maybe Mac just didn’t get it, he’d spent so many years repressed that he deluded himself into thinking that everyone hides all their feelings deep down like that, or something, but most people don’t. Maybe if Mac were anymore well adjusted (like Dennis) he’d have figured out he was gay earlier on, but he was too far in denial to read the writing on the wall like everyone else around him, even if it was written in his own handwriting. Dennis was pretty sure he wasn’t gay, but it’s a spectrum, or whatever, and he’s definitely somewhere in the middle, and he didn’t really care too much. Sometimes he just needed _ somebody _, and that somebody was Mac way more often than he’d ever care to admit.

Dennis pulls back, suddenly feeling way too vulnerable and unsure. He stared straight ahead, waiting for Mac to respond, Dennis’s hand still on his face mindlessly thumbing at his cheek bone. “Is this okay?” Dennis whispers, needing some sort validation now more than he ever has in his life.

Dennis thinks he hears Mac say something like a “yes”, before wrapping his arm around the Dennis’s waist and pulling him closer. Kissing him hard, like both his and Dennis’s life depended on it. And he doesn’t feel okay, a shower and a kiss aren’t going to fix all his problems, but it’s enough to make it feel better for right now, and maybe until things can be fixed for real, that’s enough. Everything still felt like a grayscale, but maybe things were a little more brightly lit and well defined than they’d been earlier.

Dennis can’t help but think that he was right, that he does feel safer in Mac’s arms.

**Author's Note:**

> thanks for giving me some time of day, i’m @peachy-iasip on tumblr so find me there if you want


End file.
